


Track One: Committed

by Soraya (soraya2004), soraya2004



Series: Crossroads [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-06
Updated: 2007-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/Soraya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/soraya2004
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were days when his job drove him crazy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Track One: Committed

The reason he'd started his own business was to help people.

He thought of himself as a facilitator: someone, who could put his impeccable sense of style to good use by helping those who were in dire need of it. There were the usual perks, of course: the parties, the acclaim, the fact that he was his own boss. And there was something quite satisfying about watching his creations grace the cover of magazines nation-wide. The downside was having to put up with certain clients' eccentricities, and more often than not, his job was hell on earth, brought to him courtesy of indecisive people, who were almost always cursed with an incurable lack of taste.

When Jeannie Miller sat down in front of him, clutching a handbag by no designer he'd ever heard of, he had his concerns. They did abate _slightly_ once he got to know her and her husband a little better. Only after she explained why they'd chosen _him_ instead of that hack Mason Dubois did he really get on board. And, for the first time in months, he was actually looking forward to the challenge of planning a wedding.

What Jeannie Miller described was a relationship worth fighting for. Two lost souls thrown together by chance, living and working together in a virtual war-zone; two people, whom no one thought would ever be friends let alone lovers . . ..

Meredith's and John's story had it all. It had triumph over adversity, courage in the face of insurmountable odds, and if everything went according to plan, it was going to land him that elusive cover of _'Today's Canadian Bride'_. He could see it already: the bride clad in satin and ivory silk; the groom gazing lovingly down at her; both of them set against a background of orchids and lilies, with his name right there on the cover as the architect of it all.

"This won't be easy," he said under his breath, cautioning the Millers as much as himself. The timescales were ridiculous; the budget they'd shown him was, quite frankly, laughable. But, for Meredith and John, he was going to make it happen. He'd made miracles happen before; there was no reason why he couldn't conjure up another one at short notice, even if that meant calling in a few favours.

Two snaps of his fingers, and Francine was scurrying over with _'The Book'_ used only for his most important events.

"Of course, I'll have to reschedule my calendar," he went on, still thinking aloud.

A couple of lower priority events immediately sprang to mind. Bradley was dying for a shot at the Carter account, and Francine had proved that she was more than capable of handling the Johnson-Arlettes. Which meant that he could probably free up the full two weeks to concentrate on the Mckay-Sheppards. Something told him he was going to need it.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "You know what, I think this will work!"

Jeannie Miller let out a little cry of delight.

Once the initial urge to block his ears had passed, he started clapping his hands and squealing right along with her!

***

For five glorious minutes, everything was perfect. He and Mrs. Miller pored over _'The Book'_ like long lost sisters while her husband sat beside them looking alternately bored and terrified. They ignored him for the most part, focused as they were on choosing layouts and colour schemes for their wedding extravaganza. And it was all going so wonderfully well until a few tiny words slipped out of Jeannie Miller's mouth.

"A surprise wedding?"

"Uh, yes!" Mrs. Miller cleared her throat. She didn't quite look him in the eye. "Did I forget to mention that?"

Rearing back, he snatched _'The Book'_ away from her. "Mrs. Miller," he began, trying not to let too much of his annoyance show. "In my experience, surprise weddings are never a good idea." He made sure he stressed the word _never_ , and just in case she didn't quite get what he meant, he followed it up with the kind of cold, practised smile that sent most people packing. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another couple to—"

"No, no, please, it's not what you think," she interrupted him.

Then he reared back even further as the words kept tumbling out of her mouth so fast he could barely keep up them.

"They're only in town for a few days," she explained. "John asked me to take care of all the arrangements because Mer's always too distracted to think about these things, even though they're practically married already. So, that's why technically it'll be a bit of surprise for Mer. But really it's fine; everything's fine! They both want this marriage." After that, she grabbed her husband's arm, trying to rope him into it. "Tell him, Kaleb," she spluttered. "Tell him how they're both desperate to get married."

The man she'd married was obviously too smart for that kind of thing, and he shrugged her off with a whispered: "You're on your own, dear!"

"Kaleb, please!"

Mr. Miller's head stayed down, eyes glued to what was an apparently fascinating section of the carpet weave.

She turned to _him_ then, helpless, abandoned, yet still strong. Her hands fluttered like birds in desperate flight. They swept through arcs both elegant and forceful while she clearly struggled to find the right words. As the light framed the anxiety on her face, suddenly he could see her in silver-spun gold amidst a hail of organza and taffeta, standing by a trellis draped with fairy lights. Maybe with doves, lots and lots of doves.

Right then, he knew he was screwed.

***

Against his better judgement, he decided to take the account.

He told himself that he had his reasons; he told himself he needed the challenge. Weddings had become so mundane lately, so _easy_. Which was a very bad sign in his line of work. If he wanted to stay on top, he couldn't afford to lose his edge. So the blistering pace necessary for the McKay-Sheppard event was bound to keep him on his toes.

Beyond that, working on projects like this was always exhilarating, because it gave him the chance to show _what_ he was really capable of and _why_ he stood head and shoulders above the likes of 'Dubois and Gendler'. No one in the industry could touch him when it came to event craftsmanship; no one had his flair, his impeccable taste or his eye for detail. And any opportunity he had to rub competitors' noses in _that_ was worth a few extra grey hairs.

***

Once he'd met the groom, it quickly became apparent that he'd underestimated the scale of the challenge he'd set himself and the number of grey hairs he was going to get from it.

John Sheppard was one of those tallish, forty-ish, handsome laid-back surfer-ish types, who seemed to embody the very nature of _'-ish'_. The man was impossible to pin down about anything! What made matters even worse was that Sheppard had the kind of sloppy * _I'm not interested in all of this; I just want to marry the woman I love!_ * attitude, which wasn't going to get them anywhere near the Canada Bride cover. Ordinarily, that wouldn't have been an insurmountable problem, if they weren't trying to co-ordinate a wedding in about two days flat.

"Mr. Sheppard—"

"I thought we'd agreed you would call me John," Sheppard cut in, oozing charm from every pore.

"Mr. Sheppard," he said again, not swayed in the least. "We really don't have time for this. Now, which will it be: the magenta or the teal?"

Sheppard stared at both patterns with that vaguely hunted look he always seemed to get around embroidery. "They're both nice; can't we just have both?" Sheppard asked him.

Once more he had to remind himself that strangling clients was bad for business. "Okay, Mr. Sheppard," he said, "let's try this a different way! What do you think Meredith would prefer?"

"The purpley one maybe?" Sheppard shrugged.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah." Sheppard nodded. "Definitely the purpley one."

Gritting his teeth, he put the swatch of cream damask with inlays of _magenta_ silk to one side. In all honesty, he would have preferred to work with Meredith. The way everyone talked about her, Meredith sounded like she had the makings of an absolute bridezilla. And two days away, with no cake and no dress, a bridezilla was exactly what he needed, not some laid-back charmer, who was struggling to focus.

He caught Sheppard staring off into the distance again, no doubt thinking about Meredith _again_. Sheppard had a tendency to beam whenever her name was mentioned, which was reassuring in that it seemed like a love match.

Love, however, was no use to him when it came to scheduling.

Sighing, he picked up the other swatch, letting the cool touch of silk soothe his nerves. In truth he was more concerned about the McKay-Sheppards and their compatibility as a couple than he was about the wedding. This Meredith sounded like a stickler for detail, for getting things done the right way; John Sheppard was anything but that. He'd seen enough to know that there was no way to predict who would fall in love with whom, let alone whose marriage would last. Love was really all most couples had going for them. That and the old adage that 'love was blind'.

All _he_ could do now was thank God _he_ wasn't when it came to having good taste.

"We'll go with the teal," he said tiredly.

***

On the day itself, the Millers and the Mckay-Sheppards were almost half an hour late.

Like any good planner, he was prepared for that. Once Sheppard had opted for the family only registry wedding followed by a reception for friends, he'd taken the precaution of booking several slots at hourly intervals with the registrar. Also, where Sheppard was concerned, something had told him to insist on full payment up-front. So at least from a financial perspective he wasn't expecting any surprises.

What _did_ floor him, though, was the bride.

"Is this some sort of a joke?" he snapped after he'd finally got a good look at her. Because he didn't even want to think about the favours he'd called in to get those _Vera Wangs_ on standby.

"Does it look like I'm laughing?" Meredith snapped right back.

There was an equally scathing response on the tip of his tongue. But he knew better than to antagonize a bride on her wedding day, especially one who was as highly-strung as this one was. So he went for an apology instead and he said, "Forgive me," stretching out both hands for maximum effect. Frankly, he was more embarrassed to have been so obviously rattled by the situation. "It's just you're a bit more _masculine_ than your name led me to believe," he explained.

What he _also_ chose not to say was that he thought stocky, balding Meredith looked nothing at all like Sheppard's type.

Meredith scowled at him in a way, which suggested that Meredith knew exactly what he was thinking. "I prefer to be called Rodney," Meredith told him rather churlishly.

"Well, I can certainly see why!"

Meredith's scowl grew even darker.

Sheppard, meanwhile, was trying very hard to give the impression that the whole misunderstanding was vaguely amusing. "What he really likes people to call him is Dr. Rodney McKay," Sheppard added in a stage whisper. "Extra emphasis on the _doctor_ , if you know what I mean?"

He wasn't stupid enough to fall for that. Underneath Sheppard's levity lay a very real shade of unease, so much so that Sheppard's strange attempt at humour showed nowhere near his eyes. Meredith McKay didn't look like the forgiving type, nor did he look like the type who enjoyed surprises. In fact, right then, with the rampant scowling and clenching of fists, McKay's disposition looked decidedly _unforgiving_ ; some might even have called it murderous.

All of which were signs that this was a couple in desperate need of some time alone.

"Okay," he said brightly. "Why don't I just leave you two lovebirds together!"

Smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring way, he waved a hand in the universal sign of 'please, talk among yourselves'. Then, he began to edge away for more reasons than a sudden need to remove himself from the line of fire. There was a lot of work to do, more importantly to _undo_ before either McKay or Sheppard found out. Some of the unilateral decisions he'd taken while Sheppard had been wasting time making up his mind just weren't going to work for this couple; he could see that now.

"Francine," he whispered into his headset. "We have a code red. I need you to get another groom figurine for the cake, and cancel the doves. Yes, you heard me— _code red_! Also, tell Alberto we won't need the dress any more!"

"Dress? What dress?"

Smile still firmly in place, he ended the call to Francine. A glance over his shoulder confirmed the worst: McKay had apparently crept up on him some time ago and was now standing right beside him, listening in on his conversation.

"Wait a minute—" McKay sputtered. "A dress for _*the wedding*_?"

It had been years since his last real wedding disaster, three years two months and one day to be exact. Which was why he was out of practice and _why_ he froze for approximately five seconds.

In that time, several things happened. Sheppard lifted both hands, palms up. Which a now red-faced McKay apparently took for the guilty move that it was. McKay's eyes were bulging in their sockets, explosion imminent, and Sheppard was trying to calm things down by saying: "Okay, Rodney, it's not what you think." Which was clearly the wrong thing to say, because McKay's face just kept getting redder and redder.

Sheppard advanced on _him_ then with a look that promised retribution. "What the hell did you do?"

"Well, we only had a few days," he started explaining while also walking backwards very quickly. "Which is hardly enough time to find a decent wedding dress let alone something off the back of a meat truck. And Vera owed me a favour after that thing I did for her in Milan, so—"

"You let him get me a _*wedding dress*_?"

McKay's shriek was so loud he was sure even the birds outside froze mid-flight. He was also quite sure that the entire building was watching them now.

Sheppard, for some inexplicable reason, seemed unaware of the scene they were creating. "Rodney, I had nothing to do with that, I swear," he kept insisting. "You know I wouldn't do that!" Sheppard reached out, touching McKay gently on the arm.

But apparently McKay was too furious to listen to reason, and he stomped off in the other direction, muttering under his breath the whole time.

Sheppard turned on _him_ again, eyes blazing.

Quite sensibly, he took that as his cue to run for cover.

***

The strains of the McKay-Sheppard conversation were hard to ignore, especially once McKay proceeded to yell at the top of his lungs: "Are you insane?"

Sheppard responded with an incredulous sounding: "Excuse me?"

"I'm serious," McKay continued. "I know you've taken a few blows to the head recently. And that last one was particularly bad. Maybe you need another scan."

"Rodney, my head is fine!"

"Also, I thought we were making progress dealing with your suicidal tendencies. But I should have thought about transference. This is some kind of transference, isn't it? Admit it!"

"For the last time, Rodney, I am not suicidal."

"Then what the hell are you thinking? Because you remember the military, don't you, John? M-I-L-I-T-A-R-Y!"

"I think I remember how to spell."

He hid round the corner biting his nails, listening to the indignation in Sheppard's voice and the stubborn panic in McKay's. The whole wedding was a monumental disaster! Weeks of hard work, his precious cover: it was all about to go up in flames, and he didn't have a clue what to do next. To make matters worse, the Millers were no help at all. They were standing a few feet away from him having a much quieter though no less intense conversation of their own.

Only the little bridesmaid slash ring-bearer slash all-purpose-cute-child-at-wedding seemed to appreciate what he was going through. She tugged hard on his sleeve to get his attention and then she said, "Don't worry, everything will be okay!" After which she produced, from of her Cinderella purse, a lollipop similar to the one she was licking and then offered it to him.

Grateful for the moral support, he took it.

"You should probably sit down, though," she advised him in-between licks. "Uncle Mer's an idiot, so this could take a while."

"Madison!" Jeannie Miller gasped.

"Well, it's true!" The girl huffed at her mother, unrepentant. "Daddy says I shouldn't be afraid of telling the truth. Isn't that right, Daddy?"

Kaleb Miller took one look at the two women in his life and smartly pushed the lollipop back into his daughter's mouth. "Daddy also says you shouldn't talk with your mouth full!"

The expression on Jeannie Miller's face was one of almost comical embarrassment. "Madison and Mer don't really get along any more," she told him sotto voce. "Something to do with Mer not being good enough for John, and that if John would only wait a few more years for the right person to grow up . . .." Her eyes were pleading for understanding. "It's all a bit complicated," she added before coughing delicately into one hand.

"Of course it is," he consoled her. He thought she may have said something else, but he wasn't listening any more. His attention was back on the McKay-Sheppards, who were getting louder by the second.

"Jesus, don't you get it?" And that was Sheppard's voice now raised and trembling. "They only give us leave like this when they think we're not coming home."

"What, so you're going to destroy your career _every time_ it looks like a one way trip?" McKay shot back.

"Damn it, that's not what this is about!"

"Then, what is it?" McKay blustered. "What possible reason could you have for doing all of this?"

"Gee, I don't know, Rodney," Sheppard said in an unbelievably exaggerated drawl. "Maybe I just got bored one day. Or, maybe I did all of this because I thought we deserved something a little more official. But no, that couldn't be it, right? Because that's just insane."

Afterwards, there was silence, which stretched for so long it was painful. Beside him, the Millers exchanged worried glances while their little girl was not so quietly pulling her hair out. There came a point when even he couldn't take the suspense any longer. So he poked his head around the corner trying to see what was going on.

What he found was a study in contrasts. McKay was flushed, visibly agitated and standing ramrod straight with both arms folded across his chest. Sheppard, on the other hand, looked quite relaxed; he was slouching against the wall, legs crossed at the ankle and hands deep in his pockets. In fact, Sheppard looked so relaxed he seemed almost bored, like none of this meant anything to him. And if he didn't already know that it was Sheppard who'd been pushing for this all along, he might have believed that.

"Well," McKay huffed in the end. "All you had to do was ask."

"I thought that's what I _was_ doing," Sheppard muttered a tad defensively.

"Oh." McKay tipped his head to one side. " _Oh_ ," he said again.

"Yeah."

"Huh!"

Madison seemed to take this as some sort of cue, or perhaps she'd just about had enough; with this family, he couldn't tell any more. Regardless, she stomped her way around the corner and she asked them: "Are you two ready yet?" sounding so much like her uncle it was uncanny.

"What?" McKay flinched looking somewhat guilty. "Of course we are!" Then he threw a nervous looking glance in Sheppard's direction. "I mean, that is if you still want to—"

"Rodney," Sheppard growled at him.

"Okay, fine!" McKay huffed even louder this time. "Yes, yes, we're ready!"

The whole building, it seemed, let out a breath. And beyond the relieved sighs all round, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling. Suddenly, he had a wedding run!

***

Wedding receptions were always something of a bittersweet experience because they spoke to him of endings and beginnings. On the one hand, they brought an end to his creations in a showcase to weeks of hard work; on the other, those final moments were part of two people's first steps as a married couple. It was always an emotional time watching couples move on with their lives, even the challenging ones.

The McKay-Sheppards were no exception.

By their reception, he was exhausted and on edge and just praying that nothing else would go wrong. He knew there was no chance now of making the Canada Bride cover, or any other cover for that matter. Not since the happy couple had destroyed his entire vision for the event by exchanging some of the strangest vows he'd ever seen.

He still wasn't sure what to make of them. There'd been a lot of veiled insults from McKay about Sheppard's hair, his strange ears, and his appalling sense of direction. Which, bizarrely enough, Sheppard had just seemed to lap up before pulling McKay close when it was his turn and then whispering something in McKay's ear. Something, which no one else had heard, but which had had McKay nodding and holding on to Sheppard for close to a minute.

As touching as that had been in its own bizarre way, it wasn't exactly how he'd imagined the wedding would go. Still, he thought he was handling things well, all things considered, and he kept an eye on the proceedings, making sure the celebrations went smoothly and according to plan.

***

Some time well into the evening, Sheppard cornered him by the now unrecognizable ice-sculpture of an F-15.

"Hey, you got a minute?" Sheppard asked him.

"Of course," he replied, making room for Sheppard to join him at the table.

A scan of the room showed McKay was on the far side trading what looked like insults with a small wispy-haired man in glasses. The two of them were really going at it from what he could tell, and there was a lot of that hand waving, which McKay seemed so fond of, interspersed with some rapid finger-pointing at the dreadlocked hulk of a man standing nearby.

"He looks almost happy," he murmured gesturing in McKay's direction.

Something about that comment clearly struck a chord because Sheppard actually barked with laughter. "Oh, he is," Sheppard told him, eyes sparkling. "McKay's having a great time."

He chose not to make the obvious comment that Sheppard too seemed more at ease now that the wedding was over. But one thing had been bugging him for weeks, and he decided to take the opportunity to clear it up while he appeared to have a relaxed and vaguely communicative Sheppard beside him. "If you don't mind my asking: why the big surprise? Why didn't the two of you just plan this thing together?"

For a moment, Sheppard froze, and the darkness flickering in his eyes almost made him regret opening his mouth.

Until Sheppard surprised him by saying: "McKay always thinks the big things are impossible. He would have argued a lot and probably thrown in a hundred reasons _why_ we couldn't do it. One thing I've learned is that sometimes all it takes is a little nudge before he gets with the program."

"Well," he said. "That was some nudge!"

"Yeah!" Sheppard laughed again, but it was more of a self-conscious sound now. There was something else clearly on his mind. Something, which made Sheppard uncomfortable enough to start shifting from one foot to the other.

Scanning the room, he wondered what it could be. The party was winding down. People were still dancing and generally enjoying themselves. But things had already hit that stage where numbers were starting to dwindle, and he could tell that in a matter of hours only the die-hard party-animals and clean-up crew would be left. He was about to ask the question when Sheppard, still with that vaguely uncomfortable expression on his face, stuck one hand out in front of him.

"Okay, what I really came over here to say was thank-you for making this happen. It means a lot to me—to both of us."

He shook Sheppard's hand, shocked. "I—it's a pleasure," he stammered. "Of course, it was all something of a rush. But I thought the ceremony was wonderful in the end, and you and Meredith make such a lovely couple."

True to form, at the mention of his husband's name, Sheppard treated him to another one of those beaming smiles. "You know what? I think I'll go tell him you said that!"

Sheppard's eyes were sparkling again, and honestly he found the whole thing quite touching. Because it seemed that, under the right circumstances, John Sheppard was just another hopeless romantic.

He watched Sheppard go, tracking him all the way to the other side of the room, where Sheppard promptly announced himself by trying to steal some food off McKay's plate. McKay's response was to bat Sheppard's hand away, after which the two of them stood there with Sheppard smiling fondly at McKay, while McKay kept huffing about something or other, trying to look exasperated but smiling all the same.

It was a beautiful reception, he thought, one so worthy of a Canada Bride cover. His only regret was that no one else would get to see it.

  
The End.  



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